Delphi
by Redqueen-01
Summary: Everything begins with choice? A look into the prophesies of the Oracle and their effect on the fate of the One.
1. Prologue

**Prologue **

_"In this place I am minded to build a glorious temple to be an oracle for men, and here they will always bring perfect hecatombs, both they who dwell in rich __Peloponnesus__ and the men of _Europe___ and from all the wave-washed isles, coming to question me.  And I will deliver to them all counsel that cannot fail"_

- _Homeric Hymn to Apollo_

The centre of the world

Masses flock for guidance, for wisdom, for knowledge of the future.

The seer, the fortune teller, they call her.  Her world is not linear, rather circular; she sees time pass in but a blink of an eye.  

_You have the sight now.  You are looking at the world without time._

She sees the world in dreams and visions, of events yet to transpire, of destinies yet to be made.  The Oracle.

Laurel wreaths line the temple, gift from the worshippers adorn the pathways.  Immense treasures, gold and jewels adorn the caverns.  But the Oracle cares not for material things.

_Here, take a cookie_

She speaks ambiguously, seemingly without meaning.  She cannot simply tell you the truth.  Truth is something the individual must discover, with but a little guidance.

_She would say she knows enough_

They come to the Oracle looking for answers.  They find only questions.  

_We can never see past the choices we do not understand_

You cannot alter destiny.  It is made.  Hear the tale of Oedipus, son of Laius.  His prophesy; that he would be murdered at the hands of his own child.

_Action, reaction.  _

Told the future, Laius does his best to overcome it, attempts to kill his own son.  Saved by chance, the child grows up unaware, until he receives his own prophesy.  He will kill is father.  In turn attempting to thwart fate, Oedipus flees, on the road meeting a stranger.  Words became arguments and the stranger killed.  It was Laius.  

So you see, you cannot escape destiny.  The Oracle will make sure of that.  

_Would you still have broken it if I hadn't said anything?_


	2. Morpheus

A/N:  A huge thanks to Tasmin for poking and prompting me to finish this chapter.  Also thanks to Ryven and Alhazred for the food suggestions.  And Lewis Carroll…I know you're dead, dude, so you probably won't mind me stealing your stuff.  

**Morpheus **

_"People's hopes began to rise, and they began to wonder whether John might be the Messiah.  So John said to all of them; "I baptise you with water, but someone is coming who is much greater than I am.  I am not good enough to untie his sandals.  He will baptise you with the Holy Spirit and fire"_

- _Luke, 3:15-17_

_"'I will send my messenger ahead of you to clear the way.  Someone is shouting in the desert, get the road ready for the Lord; make a straight path for Him to travel"_

_ -  The Prophet Isaiah_

For Morpheus it was not the waiting that bothered him.  It was the anticipation.  Although the Oracle and her guidance were widely revered in Zion, amongst the fleet many considered her to be little more than an intuitive coppertop.  Morpheus had heard her referred to as everything from a carnival fortune teller to a dime-store eight ball by the more cynical members of the fleet.  "Cynical" in Morpheus' opinion, "grounded" in theirs.  But a visit to the Oracle was a tradition as old as Zion itself, and though there were few true believers, the majority of the fleet bowed to tradition and suffered through an audience with her.  So it was considered unusual that Morpheus, having just been promoted to Captain, had never been to see her.  Strange because it was widely known in Zion that he was a man of faith, not so strange considering the ship on which he had spent his formative years.  

Ares had never been a believer, in fact, he viewed the entirety of Zion's religious with disdain.  None of his crew were permitted to see the Oracle, not if they wished to keep their position.  Morpheus could have asked for a transfer, certainly, but Ares had been a demon in the Matrix, heedlessly risking his crew for the sake of the mission.  Many would have considered these tactics reckless, or undisciplined, but it had taught Morpheus how to survive.  Surviving in a hostile atmosphere both in and outside the Matrix only fuelled his desire for his success.  Salvation had come in the form of a ship with a name that seemed like fate.  Nebuchadnezzar, the king plagued by dreams.  Morpheus, the god of them.  

So here he was, finally.  After so many years, the final steps towards the door seemed eternal.  Upon stepping across the threshold, ducking slightly to accommodate his height, he marvelled at the simplicity of the Oracle's home.  The kitchen, decorated in varying shades of green, was strangely inviting.  It reminded him of his own childhood, when his grandmother, bustling around the house, would sneak him a cookie or a piece of chocolate when his mother wasn't looking.  

"Welcome Morpheus, I've heard a lot about you".  The woman was standing at her stove, a cigarette dangling from two fingers as she gestured for him to take seat.  He sat willingly at the table, surprisingly calm and collected.  He had expected to feel uneasy in the presence of the Oracle.  She was, after all, the one who had made the Prophesy, and would be able to tell him his own fate.  But rather than trepidation, he felt a bizarre sense of homeliness.  She looked more like a 1950's housewife than an omniscient sage.  Therefore he wasn't surprised when The Oracle placed a piece of apple pie in front of him.  It used to be his favourite, back in the Dream.

"You want coffee".  It was not a question.  The mug she poured him looked almost homemade, the vibrant green colouring embossed with the words "Drink Me".  With a vague sense of amusement, he complied.

"One of my little hobbies" she smiled.

"Pottery?" he asked between small sips.

"Literary allusions".

Ah.  Morpheus debated whether or not to take a bite out of the dish in front of him.  It certainly looked appetizing.  But it wasn't real.  If he did eat it, would he be conforming to the system he had so violently rejected?  Would his enjoyment of the pie undermine the resilience to the Matrix he had worked so hard to achieve?  But then – he took pleasure in the fine garments he was clothed in, the designer sunglasses most of the rebels possessed, revelled in his superhuman abilities.  Was this not the same thing?  Eventually his debate was put to rest by a glance at the smiling Oracle.  She had served him the dish, and therefore was in favour of him enjoying it.  And she was the greatest asset the resistance had, she certainly would not lead him on a path contrary to his destiny.  

Doubts quashed, Morpheus reached for a fork and sank it into the crusty exterior of the pie.  Steam rose in thin waves from the dish, and he inhaled deeply.  It was the kind of smell that invoked memory; his mother who made her own pastry and used farm fresh apples, a contrast to the stale, somewhat flavourless dish he had been served in the dinar where he had first been told about the Matrix.  He noticed the Oracle watching him eagerly, and without further hesitation he raised the filled fork to his lips.  The Oracle gave him a broad smile, as if he had passed some great test.  She was now ready to impart her wisdom onto him.

"Why is a raven like a writing desk?" She asked casually as she lit a cigarette.

Morpheus was surprised to say the least.  He vaguely remembered the story from his youth – that was twice she had referred to it now - he didn't see what rabbit holes and talking flowers had to do with his destiny.  "I - I don't believe there is an answer to that question" he finally managed to stutter out.

"True"

"Then why ask me?" he questioned, his eyebrows forming an apex in his forehead.  

She blew a smoke ring in his direction, "Because sometimes the answer is not important".

"I don't understand" Morpheus was at a loss.  He had heard the Oracle was cryptic at best, but he had never expected this.

"You will".  She gestured to his plate with the stub of her cigarette.  "Eat, Morpheus".

And he did.  Blindly reaching for forkfuls of crust and filling until the plate was empty.  He could feel her watchful eye with every bite, but by the time he was finished it didn't bother him.  He felt strangely calm, accepting of his predicament.  He had expected immediate answers from this sage, this immortal, but he now understood.  He recalled the advice of Captain Dillard on his first attempt at unplugging.  "Not all people are ready for the Truth all at once, Morpheus" she had said with characteristic precision.  "Confusion is your greatest ally".  So he sat in silence, waiting for her to speak.

"Tell me about Zion, Morpheus" The Oracle requested, lighting another cigarette.

Zion.  What could he say?  Already he had spent more time there than he had in the Matrix.  As a boy of twelve, he had not been chosen because of his deviant behaviour or poor social background like many of his contemporaries.  No, Morpheus had come from a nice home, a loving family in a decent neighbourhood.  He was not a delinquent, nor especially proficient with technology, though not many of them were at that time.  Especially not the young ones.  Twelve years in the Matrix was all he needed to know that it wasn't real.  To this day he was still unsure what exactly put him on Zion's radar, but he had learnt not to question things that were unimportant.  All this he told the Oracle, a little surprised when she leant back in her seat, eyes closed, allowing his words to flow over her.  Her smile remained even when he trailed off and she returned to her former awareness.  She studied him briefly, and he felt what was almost like an electric shock pass through his body.        

"They thought you were the One".

"Some".

Oh, there were many who had placed their bets of Morpheus' potential.  Ever since his unplugging Morpheus had felt the watchful eyes of those in power.  He had studied with the council, talking philosophy with Harman and strategy with West.  He was favoured best among all the young unplugged, taxed and tested to his limits until he broke almost all of the Academy records.  Whispers behind closed doors then became shouts in the corridors.  Despite his best efforts, it proved difficult to dissuade the people of what they so firmly believed.

But that was years ago, when the Prophesy was still fresh among the people's minds.  That faith had tapered slightly as the years passed, as potential after potential fell, as Morpheus' firm contentions that he was not the One gradually hit home.  

"You didn't think so?"

One thing Morpheus had learnt was to be certain about things.  "I know I have a different path".  That's why he was here, wasn't it?  "Oracle, they say you can only look at a man and know his destiny.  What do you see in me?".  Was he important in the salvation of Zion like so many had believed in the past?  Or was he just another face in dark shades and leather.  

He watched as her eyes glazed over slightly, as she stared not quite at him – but at a place over his shoulder.  The future, he realised.

"Some things are clearer than others.  The path set before you will not be an easy one".  Her gaze moved to lock onto his.  "Two things I see in your future, Morpheus.  Belief….and sacrifice.  Yet you must be willing to surrender to both if our aims are to be achieved".

"Our aims?"

"The One, Morpheus" he voice became slightly wistful and measured, "It won't be long now".  

He was all seriousness now, leaning slightly over the table.  "The One?"    It felt like his entire life had been building towards this moment.  "When?".

"You will know when".

Morpheus sat back into his chair, reeling from her words.  The One.  Soon.  And he was going to…what exactly?  Know when he arrived, perhaps when others did not.  In Morpheus' mind, that only garnered one possibility.  That he would find the One.  

He was unaware of the Oracle's watchful gaze, and her cunning smile as she watched him draw the conclusions she had planted in his mind.  Silence permeated the room for a full five minutes as Morpheus was lost in a mixture of elation, shock and anticipation.  Finally the Oracle's words broke through his reverie.

"The time has come, the Walrus said" she sighed as she extinguished her cigarette in the ashtray.  As he rose and made for the door, he felt the Oracle at his side, moving to clasp his hand in both of hers.  Her calloused grip was tight, binding.  She was not finished.  "I wish I could tell you more, Morpheus.  But all I can say is that he will need you.  He will need your faith".  She released him, and he swore when he passed through the doorway, he was a few inches taller than when he had walked in.

In the darkened hallway, his thoughts suddenly turned to Niobe.  The Prophesy now affected their relationship.  Would he be able to give her his heart now that it was consumed with finding the One?  He loved her, and he would try, but somehow he knew she would always come off second best, and it wasn't fair to her.  But he would try.  Try for Niobe, but succeed with the One.  Never surrender to pressure or laughter or scepticism.  He would remain strong, determined – it was his destiny after all.  Whatever happened, he must keep the faith.


End file.
